Disregard Our Personal Space
by Mistofstars
Summary: Castiel can invade Dean's personal space, he just doesn't have to do it in reality, nobody has to see it happen.


Author: Mistofstars

Pairing: Dean / Castiel (Destiel)

Rating: M, holy crap

Warnings: Smut, Slash, Kitsch

Author's note: Wow, I spent waaay too much time on the internet, drooling over Destiel. Then I watched the scene again in which Dean tells Cas about "personal space", and to me it always seemed that Dean can't breathe properly when Cas is so so so close to him, and then my head just became mad about that idea. I'm still completely giddy.

WRITTEN IN DEAN'S POV.

******Disregard Our Personal Space******

You can barely breathe. Whenever he's near you, whenever he's just one step too close to be comfortable with, you feel you can't bring any air to your lungs. He simply takes your breath away, with these way too blue pensive eyes, these pale, plain yet handsome features. The way he looks at you, the way he lets his breath fan against your mouth, as if he was giving you mouth-to-mouth respiration. While you're at it, now that his breath has become yours, he might as well give you a cardiac massage, because your heart is a mess, and it can't function properly on its own as it seems. You can almost hear the slow, rhythmic but feeble thump in your chest, pumping the blood too gently through your body, it's not enough. Your head is spinning.

You sit down on the bed of the motel's room, the other is unoccupied – Sam has gone to check something. On the one hand, you're glad you have some time with Castiel alone, on the other hand you wish your brother was here so that it didn't feel so damn weird to have Castiel all to yourself. The angel just stands there before you and looks down at you, examines your face, every wrinkle, every nerve – he's reading you, and you can't stop him.

You're pretty sure he knows everything about you. He knows what you've been thinking within the last months, you can't hide it. The dreams you've had about him, the things you thought about him. All the nasty things you want to do to him, with him. You want to make him come so hard he can't even remember he's not a human being. Castiel's eyes narrow, and you feel he's read this thought as easily as he had all others you've had about him. You blush and look down. You can never act on it, neither can't he. It's too much. All of it. You feel panic rising within your chest, a nausea grabs you tightly – you hyperventilate. You hear yourself breathing frantically like an asthmatic, and you lay your body down on the bed, as straight as a die. Inwardly you count to ten, trying to calm yourself. It's not working.

Castiel is of no use; he's sitting down next to you, and his hand gets a hold of yours, your fingers intertwine. There is this sudden heat within your abdomen, and you feel aroused, tipsy. Everything tickles. The way his fingertips touch the back of your hand, it's not a touch of friends, or brothers, but of lovers. You gulp hard, but you neither calm down, nor are you able to prevent yourself from getting so hard, you feel all the blood drain from your cheeks to your crotch.

Castiel's hand wanders from your hand to your forehead, and he strokes it so gently, so lovingly that you can't suppress the soft moan escaping your parted lips. In your dreams Castiel had often joined you and he touched and loved you in ways he could never perform in this reality. So this simple touch of his to your forehead is all you can get from him, but it's better than nothing. Your insides are mixed up as if a blender shaft was destroying your body, your muscles tighten, you arch your back. Beads of sweat are forming on your forehead and start running down your temple where they meet Castiel's wrist to die on his soft skin. He's bending over your body and looks you resolutely in the eyes, you can't avert his burning gaze. Again, he makes you see and feel things that trigger you to fall over the edge of the cliff and you hear yourself moan and gasp and sigh, but you can never look away, you would never want to. Castiel is still bending over you, while you both see with your mind's eyes what he is doing to you in your daydream. Hell, it feels so real, and yet you never felt his real touch, nor his body really penetrating you, sucking you, kissing you.

You always wonder how he manages to stay so unaffected and calm on the outside, while in your shared vision he's groaning ecstatically, losing himself in your body while he's biting into the crook of the neck. You're sweating, your body is trembling, you feel yourself getting close to bursting in a burning orgasm of blazing colors. His deep blue eyes still holding the look of yours scare you and arouse you. Still you can't breathe, and your heart rate must be incredibly unhealthy and fast by now. In your mind you feel Castiel's hands clutching your hips, his fingernails are burying themselves deep into your soft skin, bruise it in the heat of the moment. You arch your back to meet his cock sliding in and out of you again and again. He shoves himself in deep, and you can't get over the look on his face; there is so much love, so much lust, so much pain. You feel yourself tumble down and then you explode and white lights appear before your eyes. Your body tenses up and you moan Castiel's name, and he shudders violently as he comes inside of you.

He collapses on your body, breathing heavily, and you put your arms around his cooling body. You're not sure if he's holding you together, or if you're his pillar that's preventing his downfall. You can't remember if he's still saving you or if you've adapted this role and started saving him. All you know for sure is that you love him and that you never want to let him go. The dream stops and you haven't averted your eyes from Castiel's, but your pants are wet now, and you're still breathing so fitfully, that Castiel is smiling tenderly at you. His hand leaves your forehead and you give him the same loving smile you always give him.

For a while the two of you observe the other, drown in each others' eyes. You always get melancholic after it, that you will never be allowed to touch him for real, that he will never feel your desperate passionate kisses on his mouth actually. Then again throughout there is this part of you that is so grateful for these shared intimacies in your mind, for this love you receive with each day, night and thought, that you don't really care, although your heart permanently aches. You can't tell anyone, not even Sam, but there is this love going on between you and Castiel, without anyone even noticing in reality. And after all, it's better than nothing. Next to the remnants of your friends and family, it's all you really have.

And you're grateful.

**THE END**

Oh God, so what do you think? I really write M very very seldom and I hope I didn't completely screw it up.


End file.
